SHOCK VALUE

REPLIED TO:
KRISSKASS- TILT THE WORLD OF ITS AXIS
IRRELEVANCE- WARLORDS ANTHEM PART 2
RED WUN- KEYSTYLE NEED FEEDBACK

VERSE ONE:

Torn dreamin for the shunned/
Till I contort the breathin in ya lungs/
Cause I’m like asthma when I twist the spleens/
And smite ya stamina while I exhibit the keen/
Its not a lie creativity is set from the left lobe/
To provide the insight my duty is ta upset ya flow/
till I bend ya mind right/
When the time is right/
Out here you may lose ya life/
Cause u didn’t think to restrain ya strife/
With just the check of the mic/
Picture me shiftin necks of blacks and whites/
The gray matter is the tone to keep it tight/
Like assholes in prison sites but Ima get felt like/
An adrenaline rush/
On impulse pushin cerebellums in ta guts/
Cause the feeling is I must so ima just/
stay hot enough to burn the ash off tha Dutch/
Fuck I’m so ill I’m too infectious to interrupt
To be abrupt Its like I cough ex up
Stir ya nerves til ya get properly touched/
If Its a battle call/
I think of tomahawks as the beat thumps/
Cause I seek the heat to make ya blood seethe up/
Rewind this til ya gulp these lyrics up/
Or take sips til ya hiccup the gist of it up/
Heart of a dragon when I respire heat with venomous busts/
And my task is ta drop fire before ya feet like cigarette butts/
Just know I’m the kid from the 7-1-4 reputed/
With the method of minotaurs with swords if I’m disputed/
So Ima persist as a vocal avenger/
And position knowledge in local listeners/
Like a penciler with the draw fill ya with led poisonin/
My style it’s switchin similar to bisexual disposition
when Im in competition Now get it straightened!

CHORUS:
What do eyes see fiction or the truth/
The mind conceives its only absolute/
And Proof is in virtue of the few/
Who hit you with tha shock value/

VERSE TWO:
Tha shock tactics inflicts the apathetic masses/
Similar to erratic bullets blasted from semi-automatics/
I’m like electrified eels so ya can’t touch the skill/
Brotha you couldn’t be hard if you brought viagra pills/
Fa real im not from Chicago but I stay ill
With the Noise ya can never kill/
Cause no sense from the common will/
Have ya blood spill on the battlefield/
I’m Diggin in the crates to acquire the taste of mass appeal/
Rig the ones who hate who can neva penetrate the energy shield/
Vessel of the real and I’m never demotin thug/
No record deal wont have me endorsin guns/
To me Hip-Hop plays the golden gun to stun/
And Mics be the slugs rockin the body numb/
So why pay lump sums to stray from abstinent ways/
When I can burn you out like ya do spliffs on ashtrays/
Cause niggas mince the brain/
with rat poison to cloak the dismay/
Triggas make killas and bullets subjugate/
And with Liqua a nigga stays in the labyrinth of malaise/
While verbally I sodomize the pitiful minds/
Or those inclined to touch mic devices with the likes of mine/
To shed some light all I need is one stand and a spotlight/
One hand to grip the mic to rock the spot at the height of the night/
When ya finished ya finished In the given time limit/
My intention is to disfigure ya from waist-line to tendon/
and splendor at how I dismember the fruits of ya labor/
By lyrically blendin em limber like blades at the bottom of blenders/
Remember many presume to enta you are what you eat/
So if I consume the pick of the litta what does that make me/